


The 218

by itendswithz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Drunk Make-outs, Drunk Stiles, Gen, Gift Fic, Police Officer Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itendswithz/pseuds/itendswithz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Officer Derek Hale gets called out to a 218 and ends up with a tongue in his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 218

The 218

“Officer Hale, what’s the status on your 615?” Dispatcher Erica Reyes asks over the radio.

Derek can’t help but snort. 615 is official police talk for lunch break, or in Derek’s case it’s a 3:30 a.m. snack. He’s always preferred the late shift, when the moonlight is calming instead of burning like the sun is. Plus less people means less chance of Derek making a fool of himself. In a town like Beacon Hills, the most he has to deal with is a couple of punk kids bored with their small town life. 

On a Tuesday night, Derek is prepared to just hang out in the town’s only speed trap. The city needs the money and if people are stupid enough to go over 35 in downtown Beacon Hills it’s not his fault. He’s just doing his job. But if something’s happening, he wants in. Some excitement never hurt anyone. 

“I’m done. What’s happening.” He says into the radio.

“We got a 218 down at Jungle.” She responds and Derek could swear he hears the smirk in her voice.

He exhales loudly so she knows he’s frustrated with her fake cheeriness. A 218 is public intoxication and if it’s a Jungle, Derek can be certain to be hit on by the drunken slob. He exhales again, just to prove a point. “En route, over.” Derek says before driving toward the night club.

He doesn’t bother with the siren but he does flash his lights around turns and through intersections just to be safe. Still, it’s Beacon Hills. Derek arrives at Jungle to see the bouncer watching a tall, thin man using one hand against the club’s façade to hold himself upright. Derek tries to make his face less scowl-y and exits the cruiser. 

He gives Boyd a nod of agreement before asking, “What’s the problem?”

Before Boyd can respond, the lanky man stands up, points a finger at Boyd and shouts, “He’s trying to steal my Jeep!”

The idiot wobbles a bit before he flails his arm out for balance. Derek hopes it’s a drunk thing but the pit of his stomach says that’s a personality thing. Derek exhales loudly and looks to Boyd to make sense. The black man just rolls his eye and says, “He’s drunk. He-”

“You’re drunk,” the guy yells before he spins around too fast and falls on his ass. 

Derek exhales loudly again. It’s going to be one of _those_ nights.

He looks to Boyd for help but the ass just stares back. “Like I said,” Boyd says blandly. “He’s drunk. Just get him home safe.”

And with that, the bouncer walks away, preassembly to go home. Derek walks over to where the drunk is laying face-up in the parking lot. He grabs one the guys hands and slowly pull him up. The man’s head lolls a bit before he’s squinting at Derek. “What’s your name?” Derek asks.

“HA!” The guy barks before he dissolves into a fit of giggles.

Derek doesn’t get the joke but he takes a moment to really look the guy over. Brown wavy hair escapes in wild tufts, bloodshot eyes and blotchy cheeks scream massive alcohol consumption and perfect bitten-red lips quirk into a sloppy smile. Derek feels a hand rub his jaw and the guy sighs, “soft.”

Derek sighs and moves until the guy’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders and he walks the drunk to his car. He dumps the young man in the back before he climbs in and radios Erica. “Dispatch, Officer Hale her-” he starts before the guy interrupts.

“Hottie Hale! Erica it’s Hottie Hale,” he falls off the seats but Derek can hear giggles from the floor so he isn’t too worried. 

“Erica,” Derek growls into the radio. “Is this one of your loser friends.” He knows what her pack of misfits calls him.

Erica’s loud guffaws echo over the radio before she answers. “Stiles isn’t a loser. Just bring him home, he’s had a rough night.”

“Damn straight!” Stiles, apparently, yells from the foot well. “Fuck Jackson!”

“Yeah,” Erica says into the radio. “Cheating on you with Matt. Total D-bag.”

“Creeper Matt,” Stiles yells back and Derek mutes whatever response Erica had. He doesn’t want to be in the middle of a gossip fest. How is this his life?

“Alright Stiles,” Derek says turning to look at the man. “Where am I taking you?”

Stiles is quiet a moment before he dissolves into another fit of giggles. He climbs up from the floor only to collapse in the backseat face down. Derek waits until he hears light snores before he gives up on Stiles. He exits the car and opens the back driver door.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but he gets Stiles on his side, facing forward just in case he pukes. He’s leaning in, making sure Stiles is buckled down when a hand grabs his jaw pulling Derek into Stiles’ face. 

“Dude what even color are your eyes,” Stiles slurs before letting go. “I’d buy that Crayola crayon.” He snorts before closing his surprisingly soft brown eyes. 

Derek closes the door and exhales. For a second there, he was sure Stiles was going to kiss him. He ignores the pang of loss for something completely inappropriate and gets behind the wheel. 

Stiles is quiet the whole trip back to the station but refuses to get out of the car once it’s parked. “Stiles!” Derek growls using his Cop Voice hoping it’ll force him to obey.

Stiles just looks up at him and goes boneless like a cat. Derek has had enough of this and just flings the sobering man over his shoulder, so Stiles’ face presses against Derek’s shoulder right blade. Stiles instantly starts squirming but Derek tightens his grip and heads for the building. 

Stiles slips enough so that his face is pressing into Derek’s ear. “Hale,” he whispers into the shell of Derek’s ear and Derek can’t stop the shiver that passes down his spine. 

He stops walking and turns to look at Stiles. He’s about to ask what when soft, warm lips press against his. Derek gasps and Stiles takes advantage and slips his tongue into Derek’s mouth. It’s wet and the alcohol makes it bittersweet. Stiles drags his tongue over Derek’s and Derek responds by moving his hands to cup Stiles’ face. He tilts the younger man’s head to a better angle and pushes into Stiles’ body.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows this is wrong. That it has to stop. Stiles isn’t sober enough to give full consent, and Derek knows that he won’t let it go past first base. But it’s been so long since he’s been in a relationship. So long since someone has made Derek’s blood pound like this. 

He hears a car pull but ignores everything that isn’t Stiles. That is until he hears a deep voice shout, “Stiles!”

The pair jump apart to see the Sheriff in BHPD sweatpants and a BHPD jacket glaring at Derek. “Heeeyyyy Dad,” Stiles says and Derek gulps.

Stiles… Stilinski. WHAT! How didn’t Derek make that connection.

He looks at the Sheriff but Stiles sways before he’s hunching over puking. Derek moves out the blast range, but prevents Stiles from falling into the mess. The Sheriff sighs heavily and walks over to Stiles’ other side. He takes Stiles away from Derek and the father-son duo penguin walk back to the Sheriff’s car. Stiles gets dumped into the passenger seat before the Sheriff faces Derek.

“We’re talking about this in the morning,” is all he says before the drives off.

Derek watches the car until the taillights vanish into the pre-dawn dark. He sighs and walks into the station.

**Author's Note:**

> posted on my [tumblr.](http://itendswithz.tumblr.com) Follow me for pics of Hoechlin looking hot and cat photos, cause every tumblr has to have at least 6 reblogged cat photos.


End file.
